f 



22 



AUDUBON 



111! 



entered his room quite unexpectedly, and asked him for such an 

 amount of money as would enable me at once to sail for France 

 and there see my father. 



The cunning wretch, for I cannot call him by any other name, 

 smiled, and said: "Certainly, my dear sir," and afterward gave 

 me a letter of credit on a Mr. Kauman, a half-agent, half-banker, 

 then residing at New York. I returned to Mill Grove, made all 

 preparatory plans for my departure, bid a sad adieu to my Lucy 

 and her family, and walked to New York. But never mind the 

 journey ; it was winter, the country lay under a covering of snow, 

 but withal I reached New York on the third day, late in the 

 evening. 



Once there, I made for the house of a Mrs. Palmer, a lady of 

 excellent qualities, who received me with the utmost kindness, 

 and later on the same evening I went to the house of your 

 grand-uncle, Benjamin Bakewell, then a rich merchant of New 

 York, managing the concerns of the house of Guelt, bankers, of 

 IjOndon. I was the bearer of a letter from Mr. Bakewell, of Fat- 

 land Ford, to this brother of his, and there I was again most 

 kindly received and housed. 



The next day I called on Mr, Kauman ; he read Da Costa's 

 letter, smiled, and after a while told me he had nothing to give 

 me, and in plain terms said that instead of a letter of credit. Da 

 Costa — that rascal ! — had written and advised him to have me 

 arrested and shipped to Canton. The blood rose to my temples, 

 and well it was that I had no weapon about me, for I feel even 

 now quite assured that his heart must have received the result of 

 my wrath. I left him half bewildered, half mad, and went to 

 Mrs. Palmer, and spoke to her of my purpose of returning at once 

 to Philadelphia and there certainly murdering Da Costa. Women 

 have great power over me at any time, and perhaps under all cir- 

 cumstances. Mrs. Palmer quieted me, spoke religiously of the 

 cruel sin I thought of committing, and, at last, persuaded me to 

 relinquish the direful plan. I returned to Mr. Bakewell's low- 

 spirited and mournful, but said not a word about all that had 

 passed. The next morning my sad visage showed something was 

 wrong, and I at last gave vent to my outraged feelings. 



